


Caffeine

by wadingpool



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Barista Daishou Suguru, Hirugami is Kuroo's Roommate, KuroShou Week 2020, M/M, Med Student Kuroo Tetsurou, Medical Scribe Kuroo Tetsurou, Pro Volleyball Player Seguro Akihiko, University Student Kuroo Tetsurou, it's not important but i wanted to say that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wadingpool/pseuds/wadingpool
Summary: Kuroo did not understand Daishou—to him, Daishou was a walking contradiction that in the end melded together expressly because he didn’t make sense. He had no answer to the question that Daishou’s existence posed nor the answer to why he found himself unable to look away from Daishou, even if it hurt to look at him. Daishou was not like the sun, he did not deem it important to be warm nor to exude an aura that invited one in; instead, Daishou was all sharp edges with a silver tongue that could cut you and for once, Kuroo was content with not knowing all the answers.
Relationships: Daishou Suguru/Kuroo Tetsurou
Kudos: 40
Collections: KuroShou Week 2020





	Caffeine

**Author's Note:**

> this is only part one of two if I ever finish it please just take this goodnight skdfsdfjsk this goes out to all yall awesome people at the stoner gc i love yall sm
> 
> twitter is linked at the bottom!!
> 
> im slipping into a coma now

The smell permeated throughout every nook and cranny of the hospital, thousands of smells coalescing into one single characteristic scent that drove Kuroo mad. The smell of the lemon-scented cleaning products that made the faux linoleum of the flooring shine, the over-fragrance of the twenty-something “Get Well Soon!” bouquets wilting in a standard glass vase in nearly every room Kuroo walked into, the metallic tang of stainless steel and the heady scent of antiseptic hanging in the air, the smell of burnt coffee from the long-empty coffee machine that had left a bitter taste in Kuroo’s mouth, the noxious mixture of the three certainties of a hospital — blood, sweat, and vomit. The glare of the fluorescent lights coming from the polystyrene ceiling seared his eyes, bright shapes filling Kuroo’s vision whenever he blinked, further exacerbating his incoming migraine to being borderline unbearable. The shift had finally ended, and with a slight nod of the doctor’s head, Kuroo headed to the nurse’s station, laptop held loosely in hand and most definitely about to shut down from lack of charge— a mirror image of its owner, as Kuroo read through the HPI, quickly filling in the ROS and PEx sections of chart number 48, taking a seat at one of the old chairs in the break room. Kuroo’s fingers blurred together as he typed, eyes flickering back and forth from the shorthand of the HPI to the ROS and PEx, and once the final word had been written, he slapped his laptop down and threw his head back with a deafening groan that drowned out the sound of the air conditioning, soft playing radio, and intercom system. The nurse on duty gave him a sympathetic smile, gesturing to the lockers where Kuroo had placed his belongings eight hours prior and he returned a weary, tiny mirror of his own as he dragged himself out of the chair and collected his belongings.

The dark gloom of the overcast night was a welcome change for his weary eyes as he walked out of the hospital entrance, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off stiff shoulders as he took a deep breath, the scent of rain on the pavement and wet grass washing away the stench of hospital that clung to his nostrils, sweeping away the dredges of what remained from his long shift. The light squish on his sneakers on the pavement gave a comfort that Kuroo would have never expected to come from such a place, and he walked onwards, feet taking him down the yellow-stained black of the street with the warm golden buzz of streetlights guiding his way to his dorm, a mere fifteen minutes away. It was after a few minutes of commute that Kuroo came to the realization that he was unfamiliar with his surroundings— the rush of the late night cars and the blinding neon green, pinks, and blues of the billboards, bars, and lone gentlemen’s club that lined the main street gone, leaving the sleepy narrow street Kuroo now found himself stumbling. His exhaustion dragged down his steps, the mental fatigue and the weariness of his body left Kuroo’s mind muted, feet stumbling, and the demand for sleep clung to his brain like Spanish moss on a cypress tree. A yawn was torn out of his chest, causing his eyes to water as he tried to close his mouth nostrils flared and it was as he craned his neck back that he spotted the small establishment across the street that he had missed entirely beforehand. The café was a hole-in-the-wall, almost completely obscured by the rest of the buildings around it and frankly easy to overlook; had it not been for Kuroo’s sleep-addled brain taking the wrong route to his dorm, he would have missed The Den entirely.

The soft golden glow that was emitted by the single lantern lamp cast a warm, inviting atmosphere that seemed almost hazy in Kuroo’s mind and the neon red _OPEN_ sign bathed the ferns, coleus, and sweet-potato vines growing in front of the tinted window to the left of the store, the plants almost obscuring the chalk board that detailed the menu for the sleepy café, too far away to make out in the darkness. Kuroo hesitated, weight shifting from one foot to the other, staring at the café that seemed to almost beckon to him, drawing into the warmth that most definitely awaited him inside its walls. His mind was made up for him when the starless sky shuddered with a deafening roar of thunder and the clouds split open, rain crashing down in torrents on Kuroo, who let out a curse and lunged for the café, seeking refuge from the torrential rains, the sound of his sneakers slamming against the platform muted by the deluge that made it neigh impossible to see even a meter in front of him. He rushes to the café, only for his knee to slam against the small chalk board and for it to be propelled with a terrible clatter against the stone wall, taking Kuroo with it as he trips and falls, slamming his body against the door with a wet splat that shook the window panes and jostled the door in its frame, neon sign almost falling at the impact. Kuroo can only make out what sounds like a muffled curse before peeling himself from the door and wrenching it open, using a bit too much force as it slammed against the sill where the plants were laid out, causing Kuroo to wince at the sound before he stumbled inside, dragging water into the establishment and forming puddles of freezing rain water to form at each of his steps, sneakers squelching against the umber porcelain tiles echoing in the silence of his deafening entrance, the door slamming shut with a cracking finality, causing Kuroo to wince at the noise. His gaze stayed glued to the tile, almost terrified to look up and see the rest of the café and deal with the judgement of the spectacle he had accidentally caused; it was crucial for Kuroo’s mental stability that this not be how he was remembered in this fine establishment— the only one he’s known that was open at two in the morning that was not a seedy bar, and as the seconds tick by, he was almost tempted to get on his knees and pray to any god he knew he wouldn’t get kicked out until he heard a groan from within the café, causing his head to snap up at the noise subconsciously, only for the sight to leave his mouth feeling completely dry.

The interior of the café carried a feeling of homeliness that Kuroo had assumed he would find in the establishment; mosaic light fixtures hanging above mahogany tables with white sheets protecting the wood from any would-be spill, cedar-colored leather cushions that looked so soft yet worn, a testament to the comfort so many other souls had found in them, gentle lamps casting just enough light on the bar for a patron to see it but to not drown the café in lights. It was a dark, yet comforting atmosphere brought together by the storm raging outside its warm, inviting walls, yet Kuroo could not find it in himself to take in the interior decoration of The Den quite yet, incredibly preoccupied with hazel eyes quickly narrowing at him. Kuroo prided himself in his ability to take in all of his environment in any place he would happen to find himself stranded, and on a normal evening, despite the exhaustion that still clung to his bones even after being soaked with freezing water, he would have taken in account just how old and pristine the establishment was, how there were stairs leading up to a second floor in the back right corner, the sheer amount of coffee beans that lined the walls behind the bar, or the painting that hung next to him at the entrance, adjacent to the bright yellow phone on the edge of the bar. However, Kuroo Tetsuro is a weak man, and any notion of spatial awareness he ever held was rendered useless in the presence of the most gorgeous man he’s seen in his life glaring at him as if he were a piece of gum at the bottom of his shoe. “Well?” cut a vicious voice through the silence, annoyance heavy in the words, “Are you going to come in or are you going to drip a whole lake on our front door?” Kuroo swallowed roughly, throat dry like a desert, as he gave a weak smile and shuffled forward, tip-toeing towards the bar as the man huffed and reached for a mop that lay next to the bathrooms at the back of the store, cleaning up Kuroo’s mess.

The man was shorter than Kuroo, as most people tend to be, and had a lean build to him that matched a thin face with high cheek bones framed by thick, dark hair, that seemed to annoy him as he leaned over with the mop, muttering curses under his breath that Kuroo’s ear strained to pick up over the storm raging outside. Kuroo stood at the edge of the bar, swaying in place as he stared, shoulders hunched over as he felt guilt gnaw at his stomach, ashamed that he made a mess for the man to clean up at the ungodly hour of two in the morning, when he assumes the other man is just as tired as he was; late night shifts were hard on anyone, regardless of the profession. He opened his mouth to speak only for the man to whip around and hold a finger up, stopping him in his tracks as he was felt the full brunt of the man’s glare, quickly shutting his mouth and giving another sheepish smile, still blinking the sleep away from his eyes as the man let out a deep sigh before moving past Kuroo once again, depositing the mop by the entrance to the bathroom and entering behind the bar, turning a questioning look at Kuroo, eyebrow raised. “Welcome to the Den. You’re lucky Omizi already replaced the wood floors that came with the place or you would’ve definitely walked out with a lighter wallet. So,” the man lazily gestured to the menu hanging above, “What do you want?” Kuroo’s eyes drifted from the man down to his shirt where a simplistic black name tag hung, the kanji for the name _Daishou_ written in a neat, green font, before looking back at the other, the warmth of the Den making his exhaustion from before rear its head once again as Kuroo’s head began swimming, movements lethargic. Daishou sighs before opting to jump over the bar, landing next to Kuroo and dragging him with the best of his abilities to the bathroom, motioning Kuroo to stay there with a gesture, before heading up the stairs, his steps light as they thumped on the old wooden steps. Kuroo leaned against the door frame, his limbs feeling heavy as he waited for Daishou to descend the stairs, thinking about dark, thick hair that had a green shine to it, the gentle slope of a nose, and piercing thin eyes that seemed to dissect him, cutting through every layer of his epidermis, down to the cells of his body. It was a heavy a gaze that his hazy brain could barely handle, it made him feel anxious yet exhilarated, to be read to that deep of a degree; the thought of being known and perceived was much less daunting when the process was carried by a beauty such as Daishou was. The light thump of Daishou’s footsteps on the stairs brought him back to reality and he jolted awake, not having realized his mind had slowly, but surely, been slipping into the realm of slumber.

Daishou gently, but firmly, manhandled him into the bathroom, herding him inside and making sure not to let him slip and possibly crack his head against the small sink that was there or the porcelain toilet, then placing his hands on his shoulders and sitting him on the toilet lid. Kuroo then noticed the small bundle under the other man’s arms as Daishou laid out the articles of clothing on the counter, grumbling something all the while. Kuroo squinted at the clothes, studying the fabric before reaching out to touch it only to be stopped when his vision was suddenly covered by a coarse fabric being dropped on his head, causing him to freeze, arm still outstretched before slowly reaching upwards towards the cloth on his head. _A towel…_ “Dry yourself off first, then you can change. I don’t know how well they’ll fit, but you seem about the same build as Aki so the clothes should fit you fine. Just don’t go breaking open your head open on the nice tiles, would you? It would be a bitch to clean and so would filling the accident report,” Kuroo lifted the cloth and brought it down, his hands beginning to caress the rough fibers of the terrycloth of what he now recognized as a towel, before nodding belatedly at Daishou’s words, proceeding to start taking his shirt off. Daishou cleared his throat, causing Kuroo to turn to the shorter man, who gave him a nod before leaving the enclosed space, door slamming shut with a sharp sound that made Kuroo jump. He slowly blinked at the door, holding the collar of the shirt away from his eyes as he stared at the place Daishou had been, before he shrugged and sluggishly pulled the shirt completely over his head, drying off with the towel. He tossed his soaked shirt in the vitreous china sink, the fabric making a wet plop, and he slipped on the other shirt, yawning as slightly numbed fingers pull the fabric over his humid hair. He changes as quickly as he could in his sleep-deprived state before gathering his wet clothes in his hands, a strangers old, worn clothing soft against his chilly skin, slowly warming up in the little safe haven that was the Den, with what must be the most gorgeous man in the world waiting outside for him, before catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Kuroo stares, squinting at the shirt he wore until he focused enough to read the words _Kiniro Sports Jumpers_ emblazoned on the front in white font with the logo making a nice contrast to the soft blue of the shirt, before his eyes flicked to his face and he took in the dark undereye circles that hung under his eyes, the harsh light of the bare lightbulb above casting shadows that made them even more pronounced; even as disconnected as he felt, he couldn’t help the grimace that spread across his face at his disgruntled appearance and a part of him felt relieved that he had been caught in the rain, the remaining sensations of the hospital atmosphere now washed away, leaving him almost feeling cleansed.

Deeming himself finished, Kuroo wrings out the wet clothes, water streaming out of the clothes with every twist of the fabric, his hands stinging a bit as they rubbed against the cotton before he deemed it suitably rung and leaned down to grab the shoes he could not for the life of him remember removing before he exited the bathroom, heading to the bar where Daishou waited. The aroma of coffee hung in the air as Kuroo took a seat at the bar, next to where his bag had been placed when Daishou had relocated him to the bathroom and he was relieved to see his laptop and textbooks had remained dry. Somewhere in his sleepy mind, he thought of rubbing it in Yaku’s face that buying a plastic bag would come in handy and that it was not stupid in the slightest _thank you very much_ , but he knows he would just be lectured in the first place by his old libero instead for being caught by the storm in the first place and an angry Yaku is a Yaku Kuroo was not keen on dealing with, seeing as the shorter man had become even more of a demon than in their high school days. Just imagining the other man scolding him for not calling for a ride like he had promised he would the next time he had a late shift had a shiver running Kuroo’s spine. No, this little incident will remain strictly to himself and perhaps his roommate who will most definitely question him on his whereabouts come morning, not that it mattered much since the pre-vet student wasn’t one to pry too much into private business, especially considering he had only just met Kuroo a meager three weeks ago. He was interrupted from his musings by the aroma of coffee accompanied the gentle clink of ceramic against the lacquered hard wood of the bar, eyes focusing and looking down to see a black coffee cup filled to the brim with a dark roast, wisps of smoke rising lazily from the liquid and Kuroo’s eyes follow them as they rise up before disappearing, washed out by the soft lighting of the café. “Careful, it’s hot,” Daishou’s voice cuts through his focus and Kuroo’s eyes dart back to the other man.

In the light, he looked warm, the glow of the lights cast a golden tint to his skin, softening his sharp features from the arch of his brows to the slash of his mouth and all Kuroo could do is stare at him, mind not comprehending the sheer luck he had obtained in being able to simply exist with this beautiful man. A more conscious part of his brain reasoned that this almost obsession with the other man was born of exhaustion and that Kuroo had no idea who Daishou was, but his mind as it stood cherished all of Daishou, as if he had hung the very stars in the night sky. A hand suddenly appeared in front of him, thin fingers snapping twice, and he shakes his head, eyes focusing on the present where he sees Daishou’s features twisted into a slightly irritated expression — thin brows pulled together, slight down curl of lips, and the barely noticeable narrowing of eyes that glinted in the low light. Daishou looked at him expectantly, as if waited for something, and for the first time that night, Kuroo finds his voice, albeit stuttering: “Wh… What did you…? Can you, uh… can you repeat that one more time please?” his words were just a bit slurred together but Kuroo liked to think they were at least comprehensible. Daishou sighed once again, Kuroo had already lost count how many times the other had sighed since he crashed in, before speaking, voice tight. “The coffee will cost you ¥192. I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for in the first place, right? It’s got a shot of expresso since you seem pretty out of it,” Kuroo nodded and rose the ceramic mug to his mouth, Daishou continuing.

“You’re obviously not a regular, so how did you find this place? Word of mouth?” The bitter taste of the roast swept into his mouth, just the slightest bit searing, as it slid over Kuroo’s taste buds and down his throat, the descent felt by the heat of the liquid cascade down his body to rest in his stomach, swirling. He shook his head as if he were a dog shaking the water off his fur at the sharp taste before looking up at Daishou, “Just happened to take a wrong turn. Never heard of it before today,” Daishou hummed at his response while Kuroo looked for his wallet at the bottom of his bag, pulling out the cracked faux leather and handing over two ¥100 coins before realization hit his sleepy brain and he snapped up into a perfect posture, his bones cracking causing both of them to wince at the noise. “Oh, shit. Yeah, uh, sorry for the…” Kuroo gestured to the entrance, only for Daishou to wave it off with an eye roll, giving a huff and to Kuroo’s awe, he sees the corner of his mouths curved upwards just the slightest bit. “Don’t worry, it’s whatever. It was annoying at first but after it was pretty damn funny,” Daishou gives him a sly smile, teeth for show, and Kuroo knows he should feel somewhat affronted about this situation, but at the glimpse of sharp, pearly-white teeth, his mouth felt dry and, mortifyingly enough, he felt his face begin to heat up. Kuroo scrambled for his cup and gulped down the scorching liquid in one go, hoping for the heat to explain his flushed appearance; instead, the coffee decided to burn down his throat and then promptly choking on the coffee, causing Kuroo to dissolve into a harsh coughing fit and for Daishou’s expression to slip as he rushed to the other side of the counter and to begin beating Kuroo’s back.

“Don’t go dying on me yet, Mr. Rooster-head. I’d rather not have a dead body on my hands at this hour of the night and I’m sure Aki would kill me if he found out his clothes were on a dead body,” chides Daishou as Kuroo finally manages to breathe in oxygen, heart racing as he swallowed roughly, mouth still numb from being burned by the boiling liquid. “Damn, today has not been your day, huh?” Kuroo sighed, head dropping to his hands, about to lament about his misfortunes when he became acutely aware of the warm hand still resting on his back. “You could say that again,” he replied, hoping his voice sounded as clear as he thought it did. It felt like he had touched a livewire, his sluggish body receiving a jolt that came in the form of Daishou’s hand resting on his back. “Do you need to call someone? You seem out of it,” questions Daishou, the warmth of his hand leaving Kuroo as he moved away, returning back to his place behind the counter, much to Kuroo’s chagrin. Kuroo nodded, yawning loudly and trying to banish the sensation of the other man’s hand, before gesturing to his belongings that were strewn across the bar, “Yeah, but I kind of need to work on some stuff and I can’t be keeping my roommate up all night with it,” Daishou hummed in response, picking up a cup to polish as he spoke. “You should probably take better care of yourself, you know,” Kuroo snorted into his cup, careful with the liquid though it had already cooled down, barrier down as he felt his embarrassment fade away the longer he talked with Daishou. “You’re not the first to tell me that and I doubt you’ll be the last. I’ll be fine though— I’ve been doing pretty alright, all things considered. Everything kind of just went to shit tonight,” Daishou gave an understanding look, before stacking the cup on top of the others and slinging the towel on a hook that lay next to the coffee brewer, attached to the cream-colored walls. “Well, don’t let me distract you, Mister- sorry, _Doctor_ Rooster-head,” smirked the other, before turning away, leaving Kuroo only staring after the man, heart beating fast. From Daishou, the teasing was something that brought no annoyance to Kuroo; instead, it filled him with an almost happiness, something that relieved him and made a smile tug at the corner of his lips as he pushed the coffee cup aside and collected his textbooks, turning on his computer, and opening to where he had bookmarked, reading about the formation of the blastula as Daishou continued about his own business, the Den lapsing into a calming silence.

It was at five in the morning that the two of them left the Den and walked together to the bus stop down the street. The silence settled between the two of them, both exhausted despite the numerous cups of coffees shared over the night, shoulders brushing with the proximity they held. The sound of the main street grew louder as Tokyo slowly began to awaken, the sun marking the beginning of a new day and the approaching hours of rest to the denizens of the night. There was nobody at the bus stop when they arrived and they both sat down, Kuroo attempting his best to ignore his arm brushing with Daishou’s, trying to not pay attention to the feeling of Daishou’s bare arm brushing against his own skin, or the highlight of Daishou’s profile against the rising star, sharp features softened in the weak morning light. Kuroo did not understand Daishou—to him, Daishou was a walking contradiction that in the end melded together expressly because he didn’t make sense. He had no answer to the question that Daishou’s existence posed nor the answer to why he found himself unable to look away from Daishou, even if it hurt to look at him. Daishou was not like the sun, he did not deem it important to be warm nor to exude an aura that invited one in; instead, Daishou was all sharp edges with a silver tongue that could cut you and for once, Kuroo was content with not knowing all the answers. Daishou turns to him, the sun casting almost a halo on his green hair, the color vibrant in the light of the sun and nodded towards something behind Kuroo. He turned and saw as the white bus began rolling towards them and he felt his stomach twist, something akin to disappointment swelling in his chest. Daishou’s voice brought Kuroo’s attention back to him.

“Good luck with the next shift, _Doctor_ ,” His cool skin that had yet to be warmed by the rays of the sun was a juxtaposition to Kuroo’s own warm temperature, something Kenma had always complained about when they were growing up. Kuroo wondered if Daishou naturally ran cold, a response to Kuroo’s own heat. “Kuroo,” he says under the rising sun. He watched as Daishou’s brows furrowed, a slight tilt to his head further expressing his confusion. Kuroo swallowed, nerves getting the best of him before he continued: “My name is Kuroo,” Daishou looked at him, almost as if he were a puzzle, expression muddled before it smoothed out. “Well, Kuroo. I hope to see you another time. Just try not to drip a whole ocean on the floor next time, yeah?” Daishou replied with a grin, before he entered the bus, leaving Kuroo to watch as it pulled away, taking Daishou away from him. Kuroo was not conscious of how much time passed as he looked on, engrossed completely in his thoughts. Why was it that his heartbeat so wildly? Why had it hurt to breathe when Daishou had given him that last smile? Why did every cell that inhabited the ecosystem that was his body seem to have been set alight when Daishou had said his name? Kuroo felt lost, as if he were set adrift in the rugged ocean with only a raft that had the air leaking out keeping him afloat, and could only remain seated on the bus stop as the city of Tokyo woke. The amalgamation of sounds that created the soundtrack of the city slowly began to be pieced together, just as the thoughts and memories of the night were beginning to stitch together in Kuroo’s mind to form a tapestry; the more scenes that were connected, the more the feeling in his chest blossomed. The sound of a truck horn rang out in the city and Kuroo felt his eyes widen as he clenched his fists into the cotton of the borrowed shirt Daishou had lent him, the realization coming to him with the subtlety of a chemical reaction gone awry, and for the first time since before the horrifically prolonged shift at the hospital, Kuroo truly felt awake. The aforementioned so-called obsession was not an obsession; instead, it was infatuation that had made the rumination of the enigma that was Daishou in his mind. It was there, in the middle of a sedulous thought process that the full tapestry was unveiled and he felt as if his raft had finally deflated and he had been dumped into cold, dark, and unforgiving salt water. He groaned, throwing his head back and shut his eyes, cursing his foolish heart for the inconvenience. Despite his embarrassment on the situation and after further reflection of his actions, Kuroo found himself almost excited to return. The fleeting thought of seeing Daishou once again made his heart swell at the vision of intense, hazel eyes and an even sharper wit, giving him the energy to make it to his shared dorm.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/starocexn)   
>  [Tumblr](https://lunatijeras.tumblr.com/)   
> 


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